


Curtains Drawn

by wreckofherheart



Series: Schnapps Shots [4]
Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 05:24:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4612809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wreckofherheart/pseuds/wreckofherheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peggy and Angie treat themselves to some much-needed "alone time". </p><p>(Or, those moments when we must pay special attention to our girlfriends before they break.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Curtains Drawn

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know. I'm _awful_.  
>  But even lady superheroes have needs, y'know?
> 
> (In all seriousness, I don't know what compelled me, but I honestly hope you enjoy this. Please leave a kudos and/or comment so that I know. Thanks!)

          Business is _never_ crossed beyond the private door. 

 

          This has always been a strict rule with Peggy Carter; her work is forbidden anywhere _near_ her home, her life, her loved ones. All of her reports, evidence, documents and so on remain at the SSR office. All of her bloody wounds, broken bones, torn ligaments are kept hush hush once she kicks off her boots, and slips into high heels.

 

          Friends and family do not indulge in her business. They are not privy to such information, but this is all for the sake of protection. Peggy would like nothing more than to sit down with a friend, and vent to them about her day: how much it hurt when that ape of a man punched her in the jaw, how she actually felt like crying when she was bullied again and again and again at work, _but she didn’t cry_ , because if she cried then that would let them win.

 

          And Peggy _hates_ losing.

 

          Only two individuals in her life have blurred the line between _business_ and _privacy_. The first of these individuals is Captain Steven Rogers, her first love, a man she would have happily wed if fate weren’t so cruel. The second of these individuals is Miss Angela Martinelli, her second love, but her love for Angie is as equal as it was for Steve Rogers. Comparing the two has never occurred to her; an unnecessary and stupid waste of time.

 

          The difference between Steve and Angie, is that Steve would blur the line with tiny steps; hesitant, gentle and puzzled steps. She managed to scare him, but not in a bad way. She disciplined him the way he needed to be disciplined, and so his confidence to blur the line was frazzled. 

 

          Yet, Angie is _not_ a hesitant woman. She is also _not_ afraid of Peggy Carter. When Angie blurs the line, she does this in angelic, but devilish steps. She is neither good or bad when it comes to playing love. She is rebellious, exciting, brimming with life right to the core, it leaves Peggy gasping for breath. Angie _loves_ blurring the line, and she _loves_ to blur the line _when she wants to blur the line_. Waiting on Peggy’s orders is not in her book.

 

          Unless she’s in the mood for that.

 

          Which, right now, she _is_.

 

          Peggy returns to their shared mansion earlier than Angie anticipated, which is fine; she only need brace herself. She can hear Peggy’s heels _clack_ against the floorboard as she enters through the main door, heaving a heavy, tired sigh. Angie feels a wave of sympathy for the other woman. No doubt Peggy has had a rough day, and maybe she would like to discuss it; to sit down with Angie with a nice, cup of tea. But Peggy is a doer, not necessarily a talker.

 

          If something is bothering her, she tends to ease herself, first, through a distraction of sorts.

 

          Angie’s heart races, and her anxiety grows when Peggy calls her name. Angie responds, her voice directing Peggy towards one of the living rooms. The lights are off, no candles lit. 

 

          Creaking open the door a little wider, Peggy keeps the room in darkness.

 

          Her eyes settle on the woman.

 

          There Angie sits, her petite body bare and free, except for one of Peggy’s ties loosely around her neck, and a pair of high heels slowly slipping off her feet. Angie is positioned atop of the closed piano in the corner of the room, hands behind her, completely aware of what this will do to her friend. She has done this before, after all, and it never fails.

 

          Peggy hasn’t moved. Angie allows Peggy to greedily study her in the doorway, and it is impossible to read Peggy’s expression. Angie smiles crookedly, almost _sweetly_ , and asks in the most fragile tone, ‘Not had a good day, babydoll?’ Her smile twitches, and she deliberately allows one of her heeled shoes to slip off her foot, and fall to the ground. ‘'Cos it’s about to start.’

 

          Coming home to this, coming home to _Angie_ , is the most wonderful luxury Peggy has ever had the privilege of having. Coming home to Angie is the highlight of her day; that’s what she thinks about when she’s sent out on field work, when she’s fighting off idiotic thugs, when she’s tolerating her rude colleagues every hour. The thought of Angie, coming home to her––that’s all Peggy needs.

 

          God, she is a _tease_ , though.

 

          Peggy can’t ignore the flutter between her thighs, how her entire body suddenly shudders at the sight. Angie is a goddess on that piano, her arms and legs smooth and delectable in the dark, her breasts rising and falling as she breathes, and her eyes constantly, half shut, on Peggy while she enters the room properly. Angie swallows when Peggy closes the door behind her.

 

          Now they _are_ in the dark. Angie can hear Peggy come closer, her heels sharp across the floor, and then she feels her. A light brush of her fingertips down her right arm. Angie’s eyes flutter closed, the heat of Peggy’s breath on her lips, and she’s already intoxicated, _needing_. 

 

          When Peggy moves in to kiss her, Angie retreats slightly, teasing her. Peggy tries to kiss her again, but Angie has a different game in mind. She avoids her lips, smiling weakly, before turning her head to kiss Peggy’s jawline.

 

          A low hum escapes her lips when Angie feels Peggy’s palms on either side of her waist. Peggy glides her hands up and down, rubbing her gently, before kissing the space between her breasts. 

 

          Angie clenches a fist, and shuffles closer, arching her hips so Peggy can kiss her easier. Peggy doesn’t wait around. Her mouth is hot, and her tongue is wet and wonderful on Angie’s skin while she kisses every inch of her. Angie moans, loud and clear, knowing what those sorts of noises does to Peggy, before running her hands through Peggy’s hair, inviting her to kiss her more.

 

          Due to the lack of light, Angie isn’t able to see what Peggy is doing, which makes it all the more exhilarating. She exclaims in delight when Peggy’s tongue softly brushes across her nipple, before carefully tickling her with her teeth, sucking on her breast while Angie withers in her hold, holding her breath. 

 

          Peggy is so gentle and cautious with her breasts, aware of their sensitivity, and yet she pays such special attention to them. It always leaves Angie flustered. A hand moves to her other breast which Peggy attends to fondly, massaging her nipple beneath her palm, before pinching tenderly between her thumb and index finger. Angie exhales heavily, craning back her neck, ‘ _Yes_.’

 

          The tie gets in the way while Peggy kisses from Angie’s breasts up to her collarbone, and a low, frustrated groan escapes the back of Peggy’s throat when her lips meet the fabric. Angie giggles, and kisses Peggy’s cheek.

 

          ‘You’re so overdressed, English,’ she murmurs, ‘C’mere, baby.’ 

 

          Angie kisses her, parting her lips with her demanding tongue, and they kiss sloppier than usual, a sense of impatience and severe hunger between them. Angie always likes these sorts of kisses; the ones where it doesn’t matter. They can be sloppy, they can be clumsy, they can laugh a little when their noses keep bumping, and they kiss awkwardly. It doesn’t matter.

 

          While lip-locked, Angie helps Peggy strip off her blue blazer, running her hands up and over her shoulders. She breaks away, lips smacking, only to kiss Peggy’s neck, busy with unbuttoning her blouse. It’s such a soft material. Angie _loves_ wearing Peggy’s blouses, they’re always so soft, they always smell like her; they’re always warm and help Angie feel safe. Right now, the appreciation can wait. Peggy needs some attending to and Angie won’t delay.

 

          She nips Peggy’s earlobe, her girlfriend silent, breaths steady, as Angie’s fingers work at unclipping her bra. ‘That’s it, baby. That’s it,’ Angie whispers, Peggy’s sore breasts soon beneath her palms. Angie returns the same treatment as Peggy, massaging them shortly, before using her tongue and mouth instead. Peggy’s breasts are like velvet at first, until Angie’s attention starts to show.

 

          Finally Peggy’s silence breaks. She’s always had extremely sensitive breasts, and is never quiet when somebody handles them––especially when they handle them _well_. ‘Angie!’ Peggy tenses all over, gasping out. It’s such a thrill to Angie’s ears, she can feel herself getting wetter, and her hands are shaking by the time she’s finished caressing Peggy’s breasts. They move in to kiss each other, roughly, all sense of civility gone. 

 

          ‘I love you,’ Angie kisses her again, and grins against her lips when Peggy drags her closer. Feeling cooperative, Angie wraps her legs around Peggy’s waist, her wetness pressed into her abdomen. They’re kissing again, deep and long, their hands slowly stroking bare skin. ‘I love you so much.’

 

          She can feel Peggy smile. Angie’s broadens. 

 

          ‘I really, really love you so much.’

 

          ‘I love you more.’

 

          ‘Nu-uh,’ Angie whispers against her lips, ‘Not possible.’

 

          ‘Hush.’ 

 

          ‘Givin' me orders, English?’

 

          Peggy doesn’t really reply. Sort of hums as she pays particular interest to Angie’s neck, which Angie is enjoying a great amount. She hisses between her teeth when Peggy sucks on the exact, perfect spot just near her jawline, that one spot which makes Angie clench all over. 

 

          ‘Will you behave for me?’

 

          Angie’s eyes nearly roll back. Peggy’s tone is too much. ‘Anythin’ for ya, baby.’

 

          ‘Lie back.’

 

          In moments like these, Angie can do nothing but what Peggy tells her. Her breathing accelerates as she leans against the piano, conscious of Peggy nudging her legs a little wider, drawing her closer. Angie’s other heel is in danger of slipping off, but Angie doesn’t notice; all she’s aware of is Peggy’s hands stroking up her calves, kissing the inside of her thighs.

 

          Peggy exhales cooly against Angie’s sex, causing the woman to whimper. She wants to reach out and grab Peggy, force her down on her. Her sex throbs, almost painfully, and she is rippling with desire. Swallowing hard, Angie feels Peggy kissing her thigh, her tongue teasingly flicking out, just to make Angie all the more impatient.

 

          It works.

 

          ‘Peggy, _please_.’

 

          What amuses Peggy is that she’s barely even started, and already Angie is dripping for her; she can smell Angie from where she is, and a shiver travels up her spine, and she aches for this woman. The piano is already slightly wet. The very idea that it could be an even worse state by the end of this makes things even more exciting and Peggy’s patience runs short.

 

          She kisses Angie’s entrance. In response, Angie stiffens, and whines when Peggy retreats momentarily. 

 

          No warning whatsoever, Peggy generously glides her tongue over Angie’s sex. Angie gapes, arching her back and catches her breath. There’s little time for recovery. Peggy’s tongue returns, with more force than before. Angie’s hand fly to Peggy’s head, pushing her further into her, catching Peggy by pleasant surprise. 

 

          Special attention is given to Angie’s clit as Peggy strokes and sucks, clutching onto Angie’s thighs as she laps at her. Angie chest heaves, and she pulls at Peggy’s hair, exclaiming in pleasure. 

 

          ‘Peggy! Oh, baby, _yes_. Yes!’

 

          Her moans heighten in pitch, louder still in the dark room as Peggy rubs her clit in circular motions, before sucking again, Angie’s wetness dripping off her chin. Angie’s eyes roll back, she spreads her legs wider, one hand relieving Peggy and stretching out above her head, clutching to the side of the piano.

 

          She knocks her hips up into Peggy’s mouth, her heel finally slipping off her foot and falling to the floor. She feels as if she’s about to burst, her heart is racing, in her ears, in her mouth, thumping in her head, and she’s hot, warm, breathless, desperate to reach her orgasm. A series of “baby”s and “yes”s are exclaimed, and suddenly Angie shudders violently, her vision paling, and Peggy continues to attend to her until Angie’s peak calms.

 

          Wiping her lips with the back of her hand, Peggy smirks at her, ‘You behaved well, my dear.’

 

          Angie manages to recover speedily. A little sweaty, she sits upright, grabs Peggy’s face and kisses her with a tremendous amount of enthusiasm, loving her, and wanting her so much it’s driving her mad. Frantic, Angie’s hands reach for the zip of Peggy’s skirt, and in a matter of second Peggy is on the floor, naked, Angie straddling her hips and kissing her.

 

          Patience is less plentiful with Angie, but sometimes in the best ways.

 

          Her kisses slow when Angie rubs Peggy’s clit with her index finger, conscious of the woman tensing only slightly at the sudden affection. Peggy’s kisses grow slower still, distracted, as Angie continues to rub her, the same motion, the same pace, it’s nearly unbearable. In fact, it _is_ unbearable,  because each time Peggy feels herself reaching her orgasm, Angie slows down further, delaying it.

 

          All the while, Angie keeps Peggy’s lips preoccupied with hers.

 

          Another finger joins. Peggy gasps into her mouth, wrapping her arms around the back of Angie’s neck, before running her hands down her back. Angie rocks into her, before grinding her hips against hers, moving up and down in sync with her fingers. The sensation of Angie’s breasts rubbing against hers leaves Peggy startled and moaning quietly into their kisses. 

 

          Tenderly nipping and pulling at her lower lip, Angie finally gives Peggy the opportunity to speak. For the moment, she’s quiet, head back, eyes dazed and half shut while Angie’s fingers gently move inside her. She’s so wet, tight and warm, Angie feels herself throbbing again. 

 

          Peggy’s breath hitches, she whispers an “oh” as her pleasure rises, her sex burning under Angie’s touch. Another “oh” escapes, her eyes close, and she rolls her hips forward. Angie doesn’t relax her pace. She watches Peggy beneath her, conscious of her nearing her end. It’s beautiful, gorgeous, observing Peggy like this; Angie can’t get enough of her.

 

          Then Peggy breathes faster––

 

          ‘… Oh, Angie…’

 

          It’s the sound of her name. Angie moans. ‘C’mon, Peggy.’

 

          Every time Peggy comes it’s sensual, soft, _relaxed_. Angie kisses her while Peggy cools from her orgasm, and she continues to pleasure her, allowing her sex to rub against Peggy’s knee. Her wetness trickles down Peggy’s leg, and she moves onto her properly, her fingers still working as before.

 

          Peggy opens her eyes.

 

          Their faces are so close together, it would be impossible for them to look away. They remain locked in their gaze, lips parted, breathing against each other. Peggy’s palms run up and down Angie’s waist, pinching her hips tenderly as Angie thrusts into her knee, still paying wonderful attention to Peggy at the same time. 

 

          They kiss hungrily, and Peggy helps Angie manoeuvre above her. They kiss and breathe, and touch and moan, shuddering. It’s Peggy who comes first, knocking her head back, and letting out a high-pitched groan. Just the sight of her coming, how her expression softens, the way Peggy loses her breath is enough to undo Angie completely.

 

          Angie is far less quiet in her approach, and even less so when Peggy helps her along the way. She rubs her sex against Peggy’s knee and exclaims when Peggy's finger joins her clit. They’re kissing again, but Angie is struggling too much to withstand the pleasure to kiss her properly.

 

          Their kiss breaks. Angie rolls her head back, Peggy holding onto her hips, and she moans, whines, rocking into her. 'Ah, oh, God, Peggy, _yes_.' Peggy watches Angie’s breasts when she finally hits her orgasm, the tie dangling uselessly, before moving her eyes to look at Angie’s face. She stops moving, and Peggy clings to her as she comes, before her body relaxes and it's over.

 

          Angie collapses onto her, and they rest for a while, calming down, hearts pounding against their ribcages. Peggy lightly grazes her fingertips down and up Angie’s back, and turns to kiss her cheek. 

 

          ‘You certainly know how to make my day a good one, darling.’

 

          Twitching a smile, Angie raises herself to look at Peggy. They're both a little sweaty, flush cheeked, hair a mess, and it's good look on them.  ‘Did’ya ever doubt me, English?’

 

          Peggy brushes the back of her hand across Angie’s cheek, loving her all the more. If life, for her, was always this way, then life would surely be perfect.

 

          Reaching up to kiss her, Peggy smiles.

 

          ‘Not for a second.’

 

 


End file.
